The Second Coming
by SubtlyFailing
Summary: Richard Grayson never handeled grief well. In the wake of Wallace West's passing he pulls out of the team and keeps reality at bay through fighting crime in Blüdhaven. Artemis Crock has slowly learnt how to cope, and will have none of his running away. However, as they both head down the road to recovery, a figure from their past emerge to wreak havoc upon them both. Traught
1. Chapter 1

**_The Second Coming_**

_Turning and turning in the widening gyre__  
__The falcon cannot hear the falconer;_

Chapter 1. Inferno

Ash and debris were falling from the sky. Raining down upon the onlookers, and upon her.

Artemis was at a loss for what to do. She could do nothing but fall to her knees on the pavement, unable to speak, unable to move. Her blood pumping against her eardrums was all she could hear. Around her, there was chaos. People were running, some screaming, trying to get away from the flames.

She could see that backup had arrived. Around her, heroes emerged. Running against the flaming inferno, trying valiantly to salvage whomever they could.

Artemis, however, hardly noticed.

At that very moment, it felt to her as if all time had slowed down. She could notice nothing of the terror which surrounded her; all that existed in the world was her and the burning ruins of the warehouse.

Suddenly, something entered her vision. A flash of black and blue. A familiar image of a bird that she, in her shattered state of mind could not place. She could feel firm hands grab her by the shoulders and she could see masked eyes lock onto hers as the person in front of her attempted to grab her attention.

His mouth was moving. Artemis could feel blood oozing from her ears, her eardrums having ruptured from the shockwave.

"-mis! –ere's Ro–n?"

What was he saying? Artemis couldn't make it out. The sound felt so far away. She felt herself being

shaken by the shoulders.

"Ar-mis! –ere is –e?"

Was he asking her about something? She blinked, unable in her current state, to make out what was being said.

"Artemis!"

Her head snapped up as the person speaking finally gained her front of her, though the blur of tears – when had she started crying? – she could see Nightwing. Staring at her with that intense expression, the one that belonged only to him.

"Wha-?"

Her voice came out raspy. She thought she could taste blood, and she suddenly realized that she was struggling to breathe. Had she punctured a lung?

"Where's Robin?"

The words did not come out as a question as much as a plea. As if he was asking something to which he already knew the answer. Yet, the question hit Artemis like a bullet to the chest as barely suppressed memories were brought to the surface. She opened her mouth to speak, but choked on her own salvia. Bile threatened to rise.

She could do nothing but raise a shaking finger and point towards the burning wreck of the warehouse.

What happened next would forever be burnt into her mind. The mixture of terror and heartbreaking sorrow on Nightwing's face as the implications of her small action became clear to him. The roar of terror. Raw, bloody, murderous terror, that the hero emitted as he let go of her and ran towards the burning ruins. The panic on Aqualad's face as the older hero grabbed hold of the prodigy of the bat, shouting that the warehouse was too unstable and could blow again at any minute, and that they couldn't afford to _lose him_ _too _in the flaming inferno_._ The rising desperation in Nightwing's cries as he shouted for the younger hero, over again and over again while fighting Aqualad's grip.

"_I'm sorry," _Aremis whispered, as she closed her eyes and gripped the sides of her head in an effort to shut out the terror that was surrounding her. "_I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry"._

But sorry wouldn't bring back what was lost. Not this time.

A gentle hand roused Artemis from her desperate chanting and she opened her eyes to stare directly into the emerald orbs of Wally. Her Wally. His yellow and red costume was grey with ash and singed several places, but he did not seem to notice. He was staring at her with worry written all over his face, his arms, strong yet gentle were holding her as though he was worried she would shatter if he held her too hard.

"Arty…" he spoke in that voice he had reserved only for her. "What happened?"

Artemis couldn't speak. She just leaned into the other hero's embrace and wept as images from the night overtook her mind.

* * *

Ordinary people rarely knew this, because most ordinary people hadn't been around it enough, but blood had an odour. It was not a strong smell, but it was distinguishable and Artemis, having lived the life she had, knew it by heart. Therefore, she knew the second she awoke and smelled the strength of the odour surrounding her, that a whole lot of blood would have had to have been spilled.

She was lying on the ground, bound on hands and feet and unable to move. She tasted blood and concrete and knew she had taken a bad beating. Yet the all the blood spilled could not be hers.

Around her she could hear the whimpering of hostages, the very same hostages that she had been assigned to rescue.

She and the young hero Robin, whom she had sworn to protect.

Robin. Jason Todd. The successor of the mantle after the first Robin, Dick Grayson had stepped down to create a different identity.

Jason Todd, the sixteen-year-old street urchin with a mean streak that had been discovered by Batman while trying to steal the tires from the Batmobile.

Jason Todd, the kid who had made all the wrong choices in life. The kid she had taken a strong liking to after meeting for the first time. After looking into those eyes, that burned with a fire of defiance that she had recognised as similar to her own.

Jason Todd, who lay beside her. Bleeding and unconscious. Beaten within an inch of his life.

"_Robin," _she whispered. Her voice coming out raspy as if it hadn't been used for a long time. The hero in question stirred, but didn't answer.

"_Rob! Come on! We need to figure out a way out of here before-"_

"Oh fun! Little Cupid is finally awake and ready to play!"

She recognised that voice. The chilling, manic edge of ever-present glee. A gloved hand grabbed her by the ponytail and hoisted her up until she came face to face with the terrifying, grinning face of the Joker.

"The little Birdy here is no fun anymore".

She followed the Joker's bloodshot eyes to the bloodied heap that was Robin who once again had stopped moving.

"What did you do to him, _you bastard_!" she demanded. Struggling against her restraints, wanting to get free so she could throttle the insane villain.

The joker let out a manic cackle and dropped her back on the concrete floor. Unceremoniously.

"Curiosity killed the cat," he said, grinning that terrible, blood-churning grin. "Or in your case, it would be the crowbar!"

Then, the manic villain made to raise a large bloodied crowbar over his head. And with an insane cackle, bring it down on her person, with bone-breaking strength. One time. Two times. Three. She quickly lost count. All she could hear was the whimpers of frightened hostages, and the sickening sound of metal against flesh.

Artemis drew a shaky breath as the strikes came to a short halt.

She kept her eyes closed, preparing for the next onslaught of strikes.

But they never came.

The sound of a struggle had her look up. She was met with the terrifying sight of Robin, almost unrecognisable though the blood that caked him, free of his bonds and attacking the Joker with an array of powerful, masterful punches and kicks.

Despite herself, Artemis could feel a tinge of pride well up in her chest. Much like his predecessor, Robin had a remarkable ability to keep calm in life-threatening situations.

Gaining a small opening he turned to her, his staff still at the ready. "Get going!"" He said. His voice urgent and very much expecting to be obeyed. He tossed her a batarang. One of the many that the joker had failed to rid him off.

"Free the hostages and get them out of here! I'll cover for you!"

She did not object.

Taking the batarang between her teeth, she made quick work of the ropes that held her and wasted no time freeing the other hostages in the room.

"Make for the exit!" She ordered, spitting out a mouthful of blood as she said it. That bastard, Joker, had probably shattered her jaw. The hostages who were in a condition to run quickly obeyed, whilst Artemis ordered two strong-looking men to help her carry the ones who weren't.

In her current condition, and without her bow and quiver, she was very much on edge as she led the hostages towards the doors of the warehouse. However, ever the arrogant bastard, Joker had invested in very few henchmen.

Making quick work of the two poor souls guarding the exit, she ushered the hostages out the doors and away from the warehouse.

That was when the unthinkable happened.

The explosion was large enough to shake the very earth around her. The shockwave hit her with such force; it sent her flying several yards.

As she got back to her feet, what met her was the terrifying sight of the warehouse, engulfed in fire.

"Robin!"

The cry that tore from her throat held more despair than Artemis had ever before known her voice to hold. Her eyes, grey and wide with terror were glued to the entrance of the burning warehouse, staring in hope that the younger hero would emerge from the inferno.

He never did.

As she watched the warehouse crumble in front of her and in that very moment Artemis felt her life do the same.

* * *

This is my first multichapter fic in years. I am fully aware that it deals with a very much overused theme in the YJ-fandom, but the idea wouldn't leave my mind until I got it down on paper. And having it on paper, I could just as well upload it, don't you think?

Some notes: This will revolve around the return of Jason Todd, but at the same time, the theme of grief will be thoroughly explored. The first chapter takes place during the timeskip, understandably, however, the main storyline will be set after Endgame, meaning that Wally will have ceased, and this will have influenced the characters.

Reviews are appreciated. Criticism is wonderful. Flames will be tolerated if they are not unreasonable.


	2. Chapter 2

So, as it may seem, this chapter is taking the story in an entirely different direction from where it started. Keep an open mind, however. It is necessary as I wish to deepen the relationship between Dick and Arty, as well as introduce the main plot of the story.

Reviews are appreciated!

* * *

_****__The Second Coming_

_Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;__  
__ Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,_

Chapter 2. Loss

Artemis had long since made a habit of her visits to the Central City Cemetery.

Like clockwork she would show up every week, no matter if the weather was sunny or rainy, and she would sit in the cool grass in front of the sleek, marble memorial stone, that bore the name of her late boyfriend, Wallace Rudolph West.

Sometimes she would talk to him; an activity that had been suggested by Black Canary, in the excruciating weeks following his death.

At first she had flat out refused the proposition, deeming it silly, and had instead locked herself in her apartment to grieve in loneliness. But, the loneliness soon became too much to bear. Waking up to the empty spot on the bed where Wally's head had once rested had soon become a source of despair in itself, and it was in a fit of this desperation that Artemis had turned to Canary's suggestion, ready to attempt anything in order to quench the pain she felt.

It had been awkward at first, and she had started off slow, mumbling words into her arms as she sat in front of his grave, hugging her knees and crying.

But, as weeks turned into months, quiet mutters turned into long winded stories about school, or missions, or about her every-day life and the activity quickly became something close to therapy for her.

Other days, she would just sit in front of the grave, lost in thought.

It was a cold, clear November morning, and Artemis sat in silence in front of the grand, marble gravestone. She had not spoken on this visit; she had no new stories to tell. Instead she merely sat on the cold ground, whilst remembering fond memories of her beloved speedster.

That is, until the sound of her communicator cut through the silence.

"_Tigress," _Kaldur's voice rang from the device as she pressed it, his voice bearing the stern, commanding tone it always held when he spoke to her as team leader; "_report to the Watchtower for mission briefing". _

Artemis sighed and told him she would be there shortly. She would have to stop by her apartment to get her suit that she left behind as well – she berated herself for her shortsightedness – one of the first things her father had taught her was to never leave home without a minimum of three concealed weapons. Maybe she really was rusty?

Sighing again, she extended one arm and let her calloused fingers rest upon the cold marble of the gravestone in front of her.

"_Duty calls" _she whispered.

* * *

The view from the Watchtower was something that she would never get used to, Artemis was sure of that. Beneath her was the earth on which she lived her life, the continents looking tiny like puzzle-pieces in the vastness of the blue seas. It was a sight that made her feel both larger than life, and at the same time incredibly small.

_It was a beautiful view, yet in all the beauty, she couldn't help but miss the warmth of the sun. Then she remembered the way the sun used to play off the bright locks of Wally, and her stomach churned in an ugly way._

_It was the view that had surrounded her the first time she and Wally had shared a kiss. Sloppy and inexperienced, but wonderful. _

She let the fond memories play through her mind as she passed the room of memorials. She let her eyes wander over the proud shape of the first Kid Flash, and come to rest at the hologram of the second Robin. Jason Todd.

Again, she could feel her stomach churn painfully.

The survivor's guilt she had been left with in the aftermath of his death had never truly let go of its hold of her, and seeing the hologram, it fluttered uglily in her stomach as she silently acknowledged that it had been way too long since her last visit to his grave.

Pushing these thoughts to the back of her mind, she approached the room wherein Kaldur stood, looking dark and powerful as he surveyed the tens of holographic screens in front of him. Barbara was with him, pushing buttons on her keyboard, periodically nodding as new information seemed to pop up.

The rest of the team was spread around the room, talking and laughing together. They had all been waiting for her, she noted.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I was… with Wally." She said as Kaldur turned, giving her a welcoming nod. Ruling out the members with super-hearing, her voice had only loud enough for him and the female bat to hear.

She hadn't needed to say anything; the leaders of the team had grown accustomed to her habitual absence. Still, Kaldur nodded again at her words, and Barbara gave her a smile, one that held the reassurance and understanding that only she could give. Artemis shot back one of her own.

Her arrival soon saw the team gathering, waiting for the orders of their leader and oldest member.

"Batgirl has managed to dig up some leads regarding the investigation of the drug trade, I believe we have been able to identify one of the main men behind the trade, but we need proof."

The image of a broad, balding, Italian-looking man appeared on the screen behind Kaldur as he spoke and Artemis couldn't help but notice how much he reminded her of a character from one of Wally's stupid TV-series.

"Nero Pinelli," Kaldur explained, as he turned towards the screen and pulled up several other images. Most looked to be taken from surveillance-camera tapes, all depicting Pinelli in the middle of a trade, on what looked to be a port or some docks that Artemis could not recognize. "We have reason to believe that this man has taken over the drug-trade in Blüdhaven, however before we take him in we need to confirm that he is not working for someone bigger."

"But," Wonder Girl's curious voice cut through the silence that rung as Kaldur's own died down; "isn't Blüdhaven Nightwing's city? Why not leave him to it?"

It was a fair question, and Artemis was not surprised that one of the younger members had asked it. Wonder girl could not have known of the radio silence that had rung from Nightwing's side, ever since his quitting the team.

"Nightwing's hard to get a hold of these days, Cass". It was Robin who had spoken, stilling his girlfriend's curiosity with a voice that sounded tired and, Artemis noted, bore an edge of melancholy. He was worried, a lot of them were, it was now over half a year since Wally had ceased and Dick had taken a leave of absence.

He had not yet returned.

"Indeed, I have been unable to reach him as of late and therefore I need someone to-", Kaldur kept speaking, but Artemis had long since stopped listening, her mind wandering elsewhere. It had wandered to the raven haired boy whom she regarded as one of her closest friends. The boy who had shrugged in the face of destruction and laughed in the face of certain death – throwing a few bad jokes in death's direction for good measure.

The boy with the eerie laughter had grown up in front of her eyes, leaving the title of Boy Wonder behind to take up a new identity. Becoming every bit as menacing as the man who had once trained him. Initially, he had kept his chatty charm even as Nightwing, ridiculing enemies as a means of distraction, rather than evoking terror in them. He'd had fun.

But it had all changed after the death of the second Robin, Jason Todd.

The event had shaken Artemis to the core. It was this faithful event that had reminded her and Wally of the frailness of human life, prompting them to leave their lives as heroes behind to build a new one together.

It was in the wake of this faithful event that they had seen Dick grow detached, spending weeks alone on the streets, taking out his anguish on every poor, unsuspecting criminal he could find. He had not returned to the cave for months and, Artemis was sure, he would not have returned at all had it not been for Wally.

She had thought nothing of the strength of their bond before this, but it had become clear to her as she had watched Wally on the phone night after night, talking in a soothing voice to the distressed, yet detached hero on the other end. Some nights, she wake up to voices in the kitchen, finding Wally there, working on mending the newest bullet- or stab wound that the younger boy had acquired. After making sure he would not actually bleed to death, she would go back to bed and leave them be. Because she knew that if there was anyone who could mend the boy's broken heart, it was Wally.

But Wally was not here anymore, it was only her.

"-you and Miss Martian will go to Blüdhaven and-"

"Kaldur." She cut him off, an action that seemed unthinkable to the younger members, judging from the shock that was evident on their faces. It was unconventional, and possibly quite rude, but right now she didn't care, right now she was acting as Artemis, not Tigress.

"I'll go to Blüdhaven." It hadn't been a proposition as much as a statement. She knew that Kaldur deemed this a discussion that should take place in private, for he gave M'gann a look, and moments later, a familiar tingle in the back of her mind told her that their minds were linked.

'_Artemis. Is this about-'_

'_I need to go there, Kaldur,' _it was the second time she had cut him off in as many minutes. She was on a roll.

'_You are familiar with the conditions in the city; it is not a place where one should go alone'._

Kaldur's words were true, Dick had once told her that compared to Blüdhaven, hell was like a promotion. She hadn't doubted him. Still, it did nothing but heighten her resolve, and she mentally told Kaldur she could manage.

"Very well," he nodded, and dismissed her. She smiled and turned to leave.

It was time for an intervention.

* * *

The second she had set foot in the city, Artemis had deemed Dick's words to be an understatement. Blüdhaven stunk of pollution and garbage and the hum of police sirens seemed to be the soundtrack of the city. It was eternally repeating, cutting through the darkness of the streets and alleyways. The very atmosphere had put her on edge, leading her to grip her crossbow tightly as she fastened her mask and started moving across the rooftops.

She had not even made it halfway to the docks when she sensed a presence behind her. She was being followed. Picking up her pace, Artemis jumped from roof to roof in a pattern that no ordinary person could hope to copy – maybe she wouldn't have to engage in battle if she could shake them with agility.

However, the shadow kept pace and Artemis thought for one second that it could have been Nightwing, keeping tabs on her to find out just what the hell she was doing in his area.

But it wasn't Nightwing – the bullets sizzling over her head moments later told her that.

Instinctively, she ducked into the shadows of a raised air vent, muttering words that she could never repeat in front of her mother. The shadow leaped on to the roof moments later, and Artemis knew her hiding place would not keep her safe for long.

She was right, natural-borne instinct was all that kept her from resembling a Swiss-cheese as she rolled out of the way of a new charge of bullets sent her way.

The moment she revealed herself from her hiding spot, the shadow was upon her like a predator upon it's pray.

It was a hired gun. Artemis knew one when she saw one, else she could not have called herself the daughter of a supervillain.

Ducking sideways to avoid a new rain of bullets, Artemis fired her crossbow at the attacker, not bothering to see if it hit, but knowing from the sound that the man had dodged. Pulling herself to her feet, she allowed herself a moment to look at the attacker. The man was large and broad-shouldered, but had been agile enough to tail her over half the city's rooftops. His face was hidden behind a mask, raven black and with menacing, red eyes. In his hand he held a large, automatic gun, aimed at her chest. She fired her crossbow again, distracting the attacker for the fraction of a second, before jumping in close, drawing her sword in the process.

They settled into a deadly dance of swords and bullets. The attacker was good, but Artemis hadn't been raised to become an assassin without picking up a few skills on the way. She could read his movements like an open book. Sensing an opening, she spun, dodging another of the attacker's shots, bringing the hilt of her weapon down on the man's forearm, almost smiling at the satisfactory sound of bones breaking. With a cry of pain, the man dropped his weapon, cradling his arm. Artemis spun, delivering a swift kick to the man's temple, sending him flying and rendering him unconscious. _– Or so the thought. _

Looking back at this moment, Artemis would always berate herself for her lack of caution. After knocking the attacker out, she would put away her weapon and let down her guard before approaching the man.

Crouching down next to him, she pulled out a pair of handcuffs to tie him up, fully intending to cuff him and leave him for the authorities to find.

The glint of the blade in the moonlight was all that kept it from burying into her throat. With a surprised gasp, she backflipped away from the obviously conscious man, escaping unscathed, safe for a gash on her cheek.

Again she resumed her battle stance, but something felt different. Her body felt numb and her crossbow felt heavy in her hand.

The attacker laughed.

"You are a fast little feline, but not fast enough," he spoke, gesturing with the knife that was still in his hand.

The gash on her cheek burned. A poisonous blade? Her crossbow chattered to the ground as her hand went limp. Paralyzing drugs. Her vision swam as the man started towards her, his left hand clutching the knife.

"You know, I really do favour my right hand, but as you so rudely rendered it useless, this might take longer than it originally would," Artemis barely listened, her legs gave out and she hit the ground without even feeling it. Was this how she would die? An immense feeling of disappointment spread in her chest and made her choke up _– or was that the drug's doing_? She couldn't help but think how disappointed Wally would be, knowing she couldn't even survive for six months without him.

She saw the man lift his blade, and in an action that felt so terribly familiar, she closed her eyes and waited for the blow.

But the blow never came.

Instead came the sound of a body hitting the ground, followed by the sound of something metallic clattering across the floor. When she opened her eyes, it was to the sight of a body dressed in black standing in front of her. The last thing she saw before unconsciousness took her was a familiar, blue bird.


	3. Chapter 3

_The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere__  
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;_

Chapter 3: Clues

Artemis's relief over being alive soon gave way to embarrassment over at all having to be saved in the first place. Propped against a wall, arms crossed, while waiting for the antidote that Nightwing had given her to work – _she was starting to miss being able to move _- she watched the younger hero with observant eyes. He was practically ignoring her, crouching beside her – now hogtied – attacker, rummaging through the man's pockets and removing any and all concealed weapons from his person. Artemis pursed her lips and gave the hero's dark-clad back a particularly indignant glare.

"I could have taken him down myself, you know!" She said, in an attempt at salvaging some pride. The words sounded strange to her ears, probably because she still couldn't feel her cheeks and her own tongue seemed foreign in her mouth.

For a small moment, she was sure that she had heard Nightwing snort, but when he turned towards her, his face was a perfect mask of apathy.

"You didn't," the words weren't spoken in the teasing tone she had long since grown accustomed to; it sounded colder, almost accusing.

"Well, I _could _have," she pouted.

"Could have, would have, _didn't," _this time_, _he didn't even turn around as he spoke to her, yet Artemis couldn't help but notice the way he carried himself. His movements weren't as fluid as they usually were; he seemed to move gingerly, tensely, as if he was in pain.

She wanted to ask him about it, if only to quench her own worry. But something in the air around him told her that now was not the time, and she remained quiet – watching him work with his back turned towards her in an almost deliberate manner.

The silence that hung in the air felt heavy, almost suffocating, and she wanted to fill it with something. But before she could even open her mouth, she was cut off by a sigh from Nightwing, who had now turned around, and was watching her with a tired expression.

"Why did you come here, Artemis?"

It was the first time she had seen his face in months, and its transformation in the short duration of time stunned her.

He looked terrible. His face was unshaven and his once tanned skin seemed ashen, devoid of all colour, as though he hadn't seen the sun in months. His features were obscured by the usual black domino mask, but even that couldn't hide the circles that had formed under his eyes. Artemis couldn't stop the surprised gasp from escaping her lips; he looked like he had literally been in hell.

She wanted to shake him. She wanted to grab him by the skin of the neck and demand to know just why the hell he weren't taking care of himself, but she stilled herself.

"Mission." She mumbled. Standing up shakily as her legs regained their usability. Nightwing looked at her with an unreadable expression, but said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

"Following a lead regarding importation of illegal drugs," she drew a breath, "look, I know this is your turf, and you like to do things your way around here, and I _would _have handed this case over to you right away, but we couldn't get a hold of you," the last part was spoken with a hint of accusation in her tone that she knew Nightwing had caught. Still, he said nothing, but turned and walked towards the edge of the roof. With shaky legs, she followed.

"Barbara told me you haven't visited the Batcave in months, and you're not picking up your phone either... People are _worried _about you!" She spoke to his back again now; he made no move to look at her.

"I've been busy"

Artemis snorted, loudly, crossing her arms over her chest. Suddenly she was fifteen again, spunky and with a bad attitude, "Too busy to pick up the phone?" she asked, her voice dripping with a degree of sarcasm that it had taken a lifetime to acquire.

Nightwing seemed unfazed. "Fighting crime in Blüdhaven isn't a nine-to-five job," he told her, voice light, as if talking about the weather, "I've been looking into the drugtrade as well".

"Got anything good?"

"Nothing but new questions," he snorted, "a worrying number of well-known drug lords have turned up dead in the past few months."

Artemis knew full well that Dick was deliberately changing the subject, had she not actually been on a mission, there would be no way she would have let him get away with it.

"However, I have gotten word that a deal is going down on the docks in two hours."

No matter. She had the entire night.

"Well then, you just got yourself a stakeout partner!"

Somehow, Nightwing didn't seem too thrilled.

* * *

"Why do you insist on pushing everyone away?"

Nightwing sighed. He knew it had been a bad idea to let Artemis tag along. She was a brave hero and a capable fighter, but when had made up her mind about something, there was no stopping her. And right now, she seemed to be on the lookout for answers – from him.

He looked at her. She was staring straight at him, arms crossed, jaw jutting out, she was every bit the spunky girl who had joined their team back when they were kids.

Back when things had been less complicated.

"I'm not pushing everyone away, I just… I needed a break from the team gig for a while," it was what he had told Kaldur, and it was the truth. Part of it, at least.

The whole truth was that he was tired. Of it all. He was tired of waiting for the next madman or alien invasion to come along. He was tired of shoving people he loved into harm's way because it was what he had been told was right. He was tired of the blood on his hands. The blood of friends… brothers...

He had carried these thoughts for a long time. Since long before Wally had ceased existing. But that event had been the infamous last drop.

Wally had been by his side when the team was formed, with the foxlike grin and the lighthearted attitude and a promise of _if you're going, I'm going. _Now, the tables were turned, and it was Wally who had gone. And he had gone somewhere that Dick couldn't follow.

Without Wally, Dick couldn't go on as a part of the team. It didn't feel right.

So he left. He pulled out of the team and went back to Blüdhaven full time. The place was hell, but it was _his city. _It was the closest thing he had to a steady relationship. To a lover, much like Gotham was to Batman. Blüdhaven was his dame, as fucked up as she was, she was his city. He spent every night with her and ministered to her tirelessly when she was sick. The place was rotting with crime, and he wanted to save her.

Or maybe he simply wanted to keep his own world from tumbling down around him.

For six months he had worked tirelessly. Every night he had been out fighting crime, acquiring cuts, bruises, taking bullets and stab-wounds, all for the sake of his city.

For the sake of keeping his grief and self-doubt from outright crippling him.

When he would finally turn in for the night, after healing his wounds with trained hands, fatigue would quickly take him. His sleep was always dreamless.

He never wanted to admit it, not to himself, nor to anyone else, but at times when he let his guard down and grief crept up on him, at such times, the feelings he had for the redheaded speedster would border resentment. There were times when he hated him. Hated Wally for dying. Hated him for leaving him behind.

He had never admitted it, but he had been happy for Wally when he and Artemis had decided to retire from the hero life. They had found happiness in each other; they had found something that was worth giving up the life for. It was something that Nightwing, who had generally accepted that the life was going to kill him one day, held immense respect for. But Wally had gone ahead and ruined it. He had gone back to the life, and had gotten himself killed on the second try. He had saved the world, but he had left behind such a crippling sensation of emptiness that Dick sometimes caught himself questioning if it had all been worth it.

"Dick," Artemis's voice rung out, cutting through his musings.

He was almost startled.

"Dick, this… this isn't you! You used to be so warm and kind and _fun," _he didn't look at her as she spoke. He already knew in which way those large, gray eyes would be looking at him, with desperation and anger. Her voice had become raspy, a whisper, barely audible over the ever-present sirens that cut through the dark. "Where did that Dick Grayson go?" 

Dick kept his eyes trained on the cracked concrete of the roof. For a long moment, he didn't answer. He didn't know what to say.

"Dick…"

Her voice was softer now, a whisper that called for his attention and made him finally look up.

"Dick, will you please just talk to me?"

Oh how he wished he could. But no. the words he so wished to speak would not come. Instead he rose and made way for the edge of the roof.

"Come on, we're going to miss it if we don't get a move on".

With that, he leapt off the roof and made his way towards the docks.

* * *

They were met with silence as they reached their destination. The eerie silence of a place devoid of life.

"Something is wrong," Artemis could hear Nightwing mutter as she followed him though the shadows. "Something is definitely wrong."

And it was.

It became clear to them the second they entered the warehouse and felt the sweet smell of blood sting their noses. At once, Artemis felt bile rise at the horrid feeling of déjà vu. In front of them, lit by the pale light of the moon, was the sight of a massacre. A dozen men lay scattered. Shot to death in the cruellest way. Before she had the time to react, Dick had left her side to search for vital signs in the victims. They both knew he sought in vain.

Artemis could feel herself shudder slightly, not at all feeling comfortable in the humid confinements of the warehouse.

"These…" Dick's voice cut through her musings and brought her attention back to reality "these men are all part of the drug trade." He sounded worried. "Twelve more well-known criminals dead… Arty, I think we might be dealing with a vigilante here… one who has no problem going to extremes to achieve his goals…"

A sound cut him off, a low groan coming from the left. A shadowy corner that they could not before see.

"It's Pinelli!" Artemis exclaimed as she moved closer to investigate. "He's badly wounded, but alive!" As she spoke, she quickly closed the distance between herself and the victim. Her gloved hands found their way to the wound on his chest as she tried to stop the bleeding.

Emergency first aid was something that Canary had drilled mercilessly throughout her first year on the team, and it Artemis usually regarded herself as perfectly good at. However, now, she could feel panic well up in her chest as she watched more and more blood ooze from the wound and between her fingers.

"Nightwing," she cried, her voice ringing with desperation, "Nightwing, my hands are too small, I need something to stop the bleeding!"

Dick was by her side in a second, his own glowed hand pressing down upon hers. It was only when his steady hands touched hers that Artemis realized that she was shaking.

With his hands pressing down on the victim, Dick leaned towards the man. "Who did this," he demanded.

Pinelli shifted. Struggeling to breath, yet attempting to speak, Dick leaned even closer in order to hear the words being said.

Then the sound of a gunshot cut though the darkness.

Artemis shrieked, despite herself.

"Get down!" she heard Dick shout and before she could even begin to move he had hauled her and the limp body of Pinelli into cover behind a stack of crates.

"How are his vitals, Artemis?" he asked, peeking beyond the corner of their hiding-place in order to catch a glimpse of their attacker.

"He… oh god, the shooter got him! He's dead."

Nightwing cursed.

"The shooter definitely wanted him to keep quiet…"

"…and he got his wish," Artemis finished for him, before she continued in a curious tone. "Did you… could you make out what he was saying?"

Dick shook his head in frustration, "only one word" he said, running a hand though his hair before continuing,

_"Red."_

* * *

So this chapter had a bit of an emotional-Dicky, hope that's something that floats your boat! Cause the next chapter is going to be even more of that ;D


	4. Chapter 4

_The best lack all conviction, while the worst__  
__Are full of passionate intensity._

**Chapter 4: Guilt**

"You can't keep this up, you are going to get yourself killed, Dick!"

Though she would never admit to being cranky, Artemis knew that she was currently pouncing on him more easily than she would have, had she gotten a few hours of sleep. They were back at his apartment. Bloody, tired and wanting to rest up after an intense night.

After the disturbing attack in the warehouse, hours of gathering evidence had followed. Before they'd had to clear out in order to avoid the police that were eventually gathering. Compared to the police-force in their sister-city, Gotham, Blüdhaven's force was considerably less open to the help of vigilantes.

"I never expected to reach retiring age in this industry anyways."

Artemis bristled. Was he kidding? She couldn't tell. Nevertheless, such subjects were something one should not speak lightly of.

"Dick!" She cried indignantly. Her voice was rising. She hadn't come here to yell at him, she had just wanted to talk, somewhere deep inside, a voice told her to stop, but she was too far gone to come back now.

Instead of so blatantly ignoring the elephant in the room, Artemis pounced.

"Have you even visited him since the funeral?" she shouted, ripping of her mask and glaring at him with dark eyes, blazing with anger and hurt. She just wanted him to open up to her. _Why couldn't he just open up to her. _

_"_Have you even-"

"He is not _there, _Artemis!" Dick's uncharacteristically loud shout cut her off, and made her jump. He was shaking, his shoulders tense and his chest rising with every violent breath he drew.

Looking at him in that moment, Artemis realized that she might have never truly known Richard John Grayson at all. The boy in front of her who was looking at her with unmasked eyes, eyes that were blazing with desperation and sorrow, _this_ was Richard Grayson.

Strip away the mask, the _real _mask, created from years in the shadow of the bat, and this was what was left. This was the boy who had seen his parents fall to their deaths in front of his own eyes. This was the boy who had left the mantle of Robin to a younger boy, only to see him killed, something which had left an ugly scar on his soul – as well as on hers.

This was the boy who had lost his best friend – perhaps the only person who _truly _knew him.

"He's just… he's _gone_."

His voice was broken, barely audible, and hearing it made Artemis forget all her previous feelings of anger at once. The boy in front of her didn't need a lecture. He needed a friend.

The shaking figure in front of her had once been the proud, strong and brave leader whom she had trusted enough to go behind enemy lines for. Now, he was broken. A shadow of his original form. He had shattered the same way she had when Wally had passed. But unlike her, he hadn't had a safety net.

He never had a safety net.

Somehow got the feeling that Dick wasn't speaking only of Wally. She thought that maybe there were someone else on her mind as well. A young bird that he felt he had let down. A boy that, just like Wally had gone before his time.

"Yeah, he is," she whispered softly. Carefully she inched her way closer to Dick, until she was close enough to feel every shaking breath he drew as if they were her own. She moved gently, as gently as you would to a child as she pulled him into her arms.

She could feel him tense, and then relax into the embrace. She held him carefully, as though she feared he would break if he was handled too roughly.

"He's gone, but we have to continue living. For him," she took his face gently between both of her hands. His icy blue eyes were filled with repressed tears and the blurriness of her own vision told her that she was crying too.

"It is what he would have wanted after all," she choked, pulling Dick back into an embrace, and burying her face in the nape of his neck. She could feel him nod and pull her even closer.

They had stayed in that position for a very long time, until they at some point fell asleep. Because when Artemis opened her eyes, it was to the dim sunlight of an autumn day, streaming through the window. The spot on the sofa beside her was empty, and a blue, bat-printed blanket was covering her body.

Artemis couldn't help but giggle at the sight. No matter how mature and detached the younger hero seemed to grow, somewhere far inside, he would always be that young boy deeply who idolized his mentor.

She found Dick in the kitchen, which for the most part looked like a warzone. The sink was littered with dirty dishes and all other surfaces were covered in rubbish, the entire kitchen smelled of bacon and something burnt that she could not place. It truly looked like a bachelor's den. He didn't turn around when she entered; he was standing in the middle of it all wearing faded jeans and a singlet and – was that an apron?

"Morning, Arty! Slept well?"

"Very, your couch is surprisingly comfortable."

"It is indeed divine. Did you take a shower yet?"

Artemis shook her head before remembering that he could not see her with his back turned. "No, looking forward to that though."

Dick gestured over his shoulder with a spatula, "go ahead and shower, I'll finish off these pancakes while you're away".

"Pancakes?"

So that's what smelled so familiar.

"Yeah, bacon pancakes. An awesome recipe that I cooked up with-"

"…with Wally," she finished for him.

Oh sentimentality. Artemis suddenly had to swallow a lump in her throat as memories from her years with the speedster resurfaced.

_"Babe, you gotta taste these things!" _

_In a whirlwind of red hair and pyjama pants, Wally was by her side the second she entered the kitchen in the early hours of morning. "I cooked up the recipe with Dick this morning, they're totally great!"_

_Artemis rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but smile at the childish excitement of the young man. _

_"I'll pass," _

_Wally pouted, but eventually shrugged and proceeded to make quick work off the rest of the plate. "Your loss, babe. They're the best thing ever! You have to taste some the next time!" _

_Again, she would roll her eyes. Then she would go on to berate him about the mess he had made in the kitchen,then make him promise that the next time he would make pancakes, she would be there to supervise. _

_But there would be no next time. _

"Earth to Arty, do you copy?"

Artemis' head snapped up as she heard her name. Dick had finally turned around, and was watching her with concern evident in his blue eyes. "You okay?"

She shook her head as she blinked back tears. "It's nothing, I'm being silly."

Still, Dick kept looking at her with that concerned gaze. "No, you're not, Arty. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you with this… it's just kind of the only thing I know how to make… I-uh, we could get some cereal? Or, you know, I am a master at heating up canned beans…"

He was hovering now and Artemis couldn't help but giggle. His slight awkwardness was quickly making her feel better.

"No, no, there's no need," she said, raising her hands and attempting to quench the younger hero's worry. "I meant what I said yesterday, we have to continue living," she couldn't avoid pancakes forever. "And it really does smell delicious!"

Dick relaxed with a smile.

"Then, miss Arty Crock. Let's eat the heck out of these pancakes!"

"So…"

To his side on the couch, Artemis was pushing a mass of wet, blonde hair away from her face as she stared at him with watchful, grey eyes.

She had quickly disappeared into the shower after their small conversation in the kitchen, and had come out later, wearing some of his old clothes. Dick had tried to offer her a piece of women's clothing that he had stacked away in one of his drawers, but he had declined with a look of pure disgust, when he couldn't remember who it belonged to.

"Mhmm?" he hummed through a mouthful of pancakes. He had to hand it to both himself and Wally; it was a damn good recipe.

"How's the search going for that shooter yesterday?"

He raised an eyebrow; Artemis truly did not waste any time with trivialities. He told her this and was rewarded with a snort from the blonde hero.

"Says the guy who solved seven cases for …. Before finishing his first bowl of cereal, after having taken a bullet. Come on Dick, there is no doubt in my mind that you have already done a good amount of research into this. What have you got?"

He leaned back against the couch and pulled out his wrist computer.

"Okay, first thing first, the shooter," he said as he pulled up a holographic image of the warehouse. "If we look at the angle of the shot, as well taking into account factors such as the lack of light…" As he spoke, he pressed some buttons on his wrist computer making dots and lines appear on the already existing image. He pointed to a red dot, "we were here when the shot was fired, meaning that the only place the shooter could have been standing is…" he pressed a button, and the holographic image zoomed out to include a larger area of the docks, "… over here." He pointed towards a rooftop a fair distance away from the warehouse entrance.

"That is not an easy shot to make," Artemis noted and Dick nodded, "I'd venture to say we're dealing with a very experienced killer."

"So what are you thinking, League of Shadows?"

Dick shook his head and furrowed his brow in thought, "not their MO, though you should already know that". At this, Artemis shrugged. "True," she said, before leaning back against the couch, "those people love their poison and knives".

Dick nodded, "I am also tracking their movements," he said, "if any of them set foot within a mile of Blüdhaven, I would know".

Artemis sighed. "So they are out of the question then…"

Again, Dick nodded and then continued. "The next thing we should take into account is the last words of the victim."

"_'Red'_"

"Exactly that. I strongly believe that Pinelli was trying to identify the shooter".

"So, it's a name?"

"Part of it at least, he wasn't done speaking when the shot was fired… but it isn't much to go by… what does it tell us?"

"Well, apart from it being one of your many nicknames for a certain batgirl, not much…"

Dick could feel his cheeks heat up at this, something which did not go unnoticed by the older woman. Artemis made no attempt to hide giggle as she watched him bristle at her words,

He threw a pillow at her.

"Focus, woman!"

"Okay, okay, but seriously," Artemis started, catching the pillow and leaning against him to get a better look at the screen, "it's most likely an alias, like a supervillain-name, right? Do you have a list over people who use 'red' as part of their name?"

Again, Dick went back to his wrist computer. "Already ran a search, didn't come up with a lot of good information. The few people that have 'red' as part of their alias, are either retired, dead, or locked up."

Artemis groaned. "So we're dealing with a newbie?"

"At least someone who's off the grid," Dick said with a sigh.

"So," Artemis said, "how do we proceed?"

Dick smirked slightly before pulling up a list of names on his wrist computer. "Simple, we'll have to think like him."

"Wha-"

"Well, he's going after crimelords within the weapons trade, right? It's not hard to figure out his next victim, seeing how there's only one left in Blüdhaven."

Artemis leaned over Dick's shoulder in order to read the name that popped up on his wrist computer. A few strands of her blonde hair fell to tickle his cheek.

_"Black Mask."_

"Yes," Dick said as he brushed her hair behind her ear. "The big bad Black Mask is the next likely victim".

"I'm gonna need to take this information back to the team," Artemis said as she rose from the couch. "I was sent here to investigate Pinelli, I'm pretty sure that Kaldur would want to know that he's dead".

"I'll send over the information we gathered to the Watchtower," Dick said.

"You're a sweetheart," Artemis said with a wink, "I'll have to get there as well. Kaldur was pretty much paranoid about sending me here alone, I figure not having heard from me since last night hasn't made it any better – I'm borrowing these clothes by the way"

Dick nodded, "knock yourself out," he said, not looking up from his computer. "And say hi to the team for me".

"You could come with me you know," the words were spoken with an edge of hope, and Dick did not miss the disappointed look on Artemis' face as he shook his head. "I'll have to pass," he said.

She sighed. "Fine, but if you go MIA again, I'll haul you back to us by the skin of the neck," she said, a berating tone in her voice. Dick grinned at that, "I'll keep that in mind," he laughed before hesitating slightly.

"Oh, and Arty?" He finally said, stopping her as before she reached the door.

"Yeah?"

"I've missed you."

Out of the corner of her eye, he could see Artemis smile.

"I've missed you too, Dick…"


End file.
